You wake up, hard. You are handcuffed to something. You are naked. Your sore eyes adjust to the dim light and an overwhelming sense of horror fills your gut. You are cuffed to a thick pole constructed out of rusty box cutter blades and other razors all welded together. You look up, it goes on forever. You look down your at the edge of a hole, it goes on forever. You are covered in some type of grease, your skin itches. Someone forces you down, you can feel their hands on your back as they push you.

You begin to fall.

You want to scream. Your mouth is bound with duct tape. You have light-bulbs stuffed in between your cheeks. You can feel the glass break between your teeth. As you fall you bounce and skid against the razor blade pole. The razors are rusty, your skin snags and hooks against the dull, bent blades. The perfectly placed duct tape keeps the powdered glass safely in your mouth.

You fall forever.

Your face, neck, chest, stomach, and inner thighs all become a mess of bloody pulp. You have a mixture of grease and blood in your eyes. Despite this you can see that the hole you’re falling down is artificial, it consists entirely of television sets. They all broadcast your descent. The televisions zoom in on your face. Your face is so mutilated you look like something else, the person you once where has been shaved away. Piece by piece, chunk by chuck you are nothing left, but the bone, the gristle. You are nothing but table scraps for something less than the family dog.

Suddenly and in the harshest way possible the soles off your feet dig into the pole hard, it slows you down. You stop and scream using what little oxygen you still carry and almost as suddenly as it began, you wake up, breathing heavy. Staring at the ceiling you watch rain water drip through the cracks in the ceiling.